Saturday, May 23, 2009

bobo the hierophant - the beginning

all true histories contain instruction - unless, jumping through hoops, the underlying reality melts into the reality underlying it, and then the reality underlying it, and so on forever...
the tale i am about to unfold is the simplest and most trivial i could imagine. does it contain instruction? let the reader, if any, decide...
the young comte de gobineau, having reached the mature age of seven years, was walking along a country road in threshing season with his governess and his groom.
the late summer sun beat down on their heads. the governess, mademoiselle cecilie, protected her head with a light blue parasol, and slugg, the british groom, held a sturdier black one over the young lord's head.
the young count was an inquisitive though not particularly intelligent child and did not regard silence as either a temptation or a virtue. he pointed into the fields where the peasants were busily gathering the harvest.
"look there," he exclaimed. "that fellow is not working as hard as the others. what is his problem? and there! neither is that one. should all not carry their share of the load?"
mademoiselle squinted into the fields. "you are a little harsh, my lord. the first
worker has grown old - i am sure he has served the estate faithfully for many decades before your lordship came into the world. as for the second, he - or perhaps she - is a mere child, not yet endowed by heaven with the strength to carry a full load."
the young lord considered this. "that sounds sophistical. look here - even if they are, as you say, lacking strength, could they not at least work as fast as the others? see how slow they are!"
"but speed and strength are intertwined in nature." slugg replied. "as i have frequently pointed out in our various lessons."
"i don't care a fig for nature," the count answered. " slugg, call them over, i wish to speak to them."
slugg bowed his head and trudged into the field, returning shortly with the two peasants, old and young.
the young count glared at them. "you there," he addressed the old one. "what is your name?'"
"st barnabas the apostle, your lordship."
"oh?", the count seemed slightly taken aback. "and what is your name,eh," he asked the young girl.
"st bibiana,virgin and martyr, your lordship"
"i see." the young count turned to slugg. "are all these peasants saints?"
"indeed they are, young master. we formerly had demons, dragons and fallen angels, but your late grandfather, in a frenzy of piety before his untimely death, appealed to the court of heaven to fill his fields with saints - as you see."
"i see only too well. ah, is this monsieur l'abbe on the high road?"
the hunchbacked little abbe was indeed approaching from the direction of the old rectory. the sun glinted sleepily on his broad black hat, as , seeing the young count and his attendants questioning the two saintly peasants, he hastened his clumping steps toward them.
the count wasted no time pleasantries.
"here now, monsieur abbe, what is this i hear of your befuddling my poor grandfather with your rascally clericalist conspiracies - taking crops out of my barn by putting these wretches in my fields, eh?"
the abbe pulled out a huge white handkerchief and dabbed his brow. "ah, my dear young sir, it was heaven, not my poor self who led the late count to this step. if you had been at his bedside instead of - if you had been at his bedside when he commended his soul to the saints, you would have heard all from his own lips."
the count stamped his little foot on the road. "at his bedside instead of what? what insolence! slugg, can we give this wretch thirty or forty of the very best, eh?"
"i am afraid, sir, we would have go back to the days of pepin the frank, if not of moses and the pharoahs, to find a churchman flogged in this fair land. it just won't do, sir."
"bah! you two, back in the fields! try to put a little food on my table, at least."
the two saints departed.
"i will consult with my uncle monsieur the cardinal on this matter. you may go on your way, monsieur 'abbe."
slugg, mademoiselle cecilie and the abbe exchanged glances.

later that evening, after the young count had said his prayers and been put to bed, the groom, the governess and the abbe met in pere pierre's wineshop behind the high road to paris.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

bobby's challenge

expecitng bobby turners endless protestations to last just about an hour, george brewster never thought to try to understand why the fire in the trees under the pyramid sent smoke all the way to uranus before the department deployed a general alarm way across petersburg's unfinished squares.
understand me, sister jane.
this is what i undertake to do for you.
reduce your stress

with bobby's permission
uranus doesn't care about the smoke
the end is not near
bobby went to see the patriarch and he got the word

"o patriarch, what is the word," he asked.
"jerusalem is being rebuilt on neptune," the patriarch answered. "they need a few good men."
"but how much are they paying?"
"they are paying the going rate. you had better hurry up before it's gone."

"forgive me, patriarch, but i was expecting a little more."
the patriarch shook his white beard.
"never mimd." he said.
quietly the birds flew away to the top of the pyramid.

st jerome approached warily.
the exhaust from the big rigs tooling down the highway made him dizzy.
try as he might, bobby could not remember the lady time .....

under the apple tree
surrender was the only option
except in the most extreme circumstances
pumping his fist, st basil ran across the drill field to the smoking pyramid

"no one deserves this more than us, brother."
kaleidoscopic laminations in the midnight orange juice
"come along, soldier."
desperately bobby looked around.

"but what did you expect?"
the constble laughed.
st jerome had treated bobby the best of all the fathers of the church.
uncle bud, uncle bud, trees are shaking, uncle bud

when they got back to the hideout they laughed their bunions off
st pater and st paul gave them their blessing
in an instant the smoke had engulfed them
bobby ran

just then an angel appeared
because of the smoke he couldn't tell which angel it was
pitter pat the rain began to fall
uranus flared in the night sky

frankie had it all figured out
st peter just shrugged
the kingdom of heaven has been delayed
the joke is on but on who?

sudenly bobby understood everything
zeros are beyond counting
pitter pat the rain began to fall
pretty soon it was a downpour

then a monsoon
may 17, 1800.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

billy's lucky day

ignorant important gangs blow up big bridges that's funny
funny violent persons peons beg big shots in virulent frankie and johnny understand that's great
guys just keep to the right all the way to pittsburgh explodes
frankie explained to johnny as they turned down behind the underpass that pittsburgh was ignorant ignored
uncle sam can't expect the invasion to empty all the undermen and bad uncles in an instant
"no but santa claus can"
"get hip to this timely trip"
eggs benedict destroyed paris now he thinks je can do the same to pittsburgh . bad guys just exhale when bad smoke blows their way.
"when you take that california tip"
johnny got out of the car. it started to rain.
"here's he deal. billy called me from jericho last night'"
"you sure it wasn't jerusalem?"
"no , it was jericho."
"jericho, pennsylvania?"
"no bud, jericho where joshua fought the battle of jericho - out in the sanddunes"
"i thought joshua fit the battle of jericho"
"no. he fought it, stupid, how can you fit a battle?"
"he fit it into his schedule. he was on his way somewhere and he fit it into his schedule"
"so where was he going?"
she was wearing the heaviest jewelry gus had ever seen.
now i'm lost under the tunnel we'll have to turn around
"i don't know maybe he was going to see somebody. maybe he was going to see the queen of sheba"
"joshua and the queen of sheba weren't even contemporaies"
"ooh, big word, what does it mean"
"it means you don't know your bible, man. what are we fighting this war for, anyway? you're no better than an arab the way you don't know your bible"
now i'm lost under the tunnel we'll have to turn around
this octopus is hard to chew hoss
suddenly the french girl ran across the road straight at frankie and johnny

"please make jericho your undivided destination"
"they got to mean jericho pennsylvania man, we're in pennsylvania now. we'd have to cross rivers and mountains and stuff to get to jericho in the desert"
"help me, help me! madame is after me!"
outside louisville the iguana terminated harry's woeful hacienda
"perhaps madame can tell us what she wants with this young woman"
"she's my maid - was my maid - and now i can't live in the same house with her"
colonel oblonsky shook his head sadly. "msdame i couldn't help you if you were the queen of sheba"
the octopus outside louisville chewed the iguana in the best cage match in town hoss
"you'll have to get out of the way, ma'am, we are about to nuke this town"
"she was dilly-dallying with my husband"
"are you sure she wasn't shilly-shallying?"
"pay attention to him, ma'am." johnny interrupted with a mischievous grin, "he knows his bible"
"headquarters is on the line, frankie. come in, hq"
jericho beckoned like in a star in the west
"finish up pittsburgh and get on to cleveland"
"i hear you - tell billy it's his lucky day, we got a french maid here that;s just his style"
"send her down, then get on to cleveland"
"are you sure we're not going to jericho?"
"cleveland, my brother, cleveland, just get on up the road to cleveland"

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

i'm hungry


what is code 9 from nova base? code nine is a dynamic new approach to communication

have you ever thought about words? about how many there are and how many possible combinations there are? but people only use about 15 different combinations and all 15 are lies!

have you ever thought about the bible? about how many people have read it and how many different ways it could be read? about 1500 but people only see about 15000 of them.

ok, here is what we are going to do about it- we are going to code 9 different combinations and all 15 are lies! everything that has ever ben written, said or thought by the whole lying deluded human race!

should we start with the bible ? if we can't find eddie how are we going to find frank? written, said or thought by the whole lying deluded human race in 15000 years or with nora roberts novels mom it's raining on jesse james grave on the seventh day he tested the whole deluded human race for 150,000 years